


That Word

by Bunny7033



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Team Free Will, Tickling, Ticklish Dean, Touch-Starved, Touching, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunny7033/pseuds/Bunny7033
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel loves to be touched. It’s a desire he can only recall manifesting after he met the Winchesters; hardly surprising, considering their aptitude for altering everything he thinks he knows about himself and his existence. In Heaven - and on Earth - touches between angels were rare, and so often impersonal when they did happen. As he spends more time on Earth, he comes to realize that touching tends to be more important for humans. A touch can be used as a form of violence, of course, or to cause pain, but it can also be playful, friendly, a show of affection or caring, a source of comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Word

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thebest_medicine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebest_medicine/gifts).



Castiel loves to be touched. It’s a desire he can only recall manifesting after he met the Winchesters; hardly surprising, considering their aptitude for altering everything he thinks he knows about himself and his existence. In Heaven - and on Earth - touches between angels were rare, and so often impersonal when they did happen. As he spends more time on Earth, he comes to realize that touching tends to be more important for humans. A touch can be used as a form of violence, of course, or to cause pain, but it can also be playful, friendly, a show of affection or caring, a source of comfort.  
  
It isn’t until Cas falls that he starts to crave touch. It’s… lonely, without the company or acceptance of other angels, and it’s difficult to deal with even after he reunites with Sam and Dean because everything about being human is so overwhelming and new.  
  
It all comes to a head one morning when he can’t figure out how to use the microwave in the bunker. To his credit it’s a more advanced microwave than others he’s seen, but it’s nevertheless an appliance that all humans are capable of working and he needs it in order to heat his breakfast burrito and more than anything he just wants to be an angel again.  
  
He’s not sure what kind of expression is on his face when Sam eventually discovers him sitting at the kitchen table, but it must be unpleasant because the hunter immediately looks sad. Sam sits down next to him, seeming at a loss. “Cas… Look man, I get that this can’t be easy for you.”  
  
Cas stares at his burrito, and all he can say is, “I don’t know how to be human.”  
  
Sam gives him a small smile. “Well, that’s what you’ve got me and Dean for, and you know, you probably won’t be human forever. It’s all gonna work out. Everything with Metatron and the angels and your wings - we’ll figure out how to deal with it.” He awkwardly raises a hand as if to pat Cas on the back, and instead ends up gently squeezing his neck.  
  
Cas melts into the touch, pressing back against Sam’s hand. A quick glance at the hunter shows surprise, which morphs into a kind of understanding. Rather than moving away Sam starts rubbing Cas’ neck, and for some reason Cas finds it the most comforting gesture he’s received all week. He all but hums in contentment when Sam’s nails gently scratch across his nape, and Sam bursts into laughter.  
  
Cas frowns at him. “I don’t see what’s funny,” he mutters, feeling his cheeks heat up in irrational embarrassment.  
  
“You were _purring_ , Cas. That was definitely a purr.”  
  
Though he knows it’s childish, Cas pouts when Sam pulls his hand away and gets to his feet. “You don’t have to stop.”  
  
Sam looks surprised, but then he smiles again. “Alright, but let’s go someplace more comfortable first. Come on, I bet there’s some good cartoons on right now that we can watch, and maybe we can rope Dean into it too.”  
  
Over the next few days, Cas continues to ask for physical affection - he soon discovers that widening his eyes and glancing at Sam’s hand are usually enough of a request - and it never fails to put him in a better mood. Sam, who Cas has always considered the more “touchy-feely” of the brothers, never seems to mind. Their interactions soon become habit, and though Cas originally considered Sam’s words in the kitchen that morning to be nothing more than an attempt at providing comfort, to his surprise things do get better. He adjusts to pillows and blankets and driving for hours to reach a destination, and Sam and Dean are supportive throughout the process, each in their own way.  
  
He’s more than glad when he regains his angelic status, but even when his Grace is finally restored, he’s also glad that some things don’t change. Sandwiches taste like molecules now, and showers and sleep are inessential, but the feeling of human contact and his desire for it remain the same. The next time that they meet up at the bunker - Cas an angel once again, and Sam and Dean just back from a hunt - Cas goes to the library and takes a seat next to Sam. The hunter’s look of surprise quickly shifts to a smile, and he reaches over to massage Cas’ neck before going back to reading his book.  
  
Dean comes in one morning when Sam and Cas are watching television in the living room, Sam’s hand gently massaging the nape of Cas’ neck. Dean is wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that he didn’t have on earlier that day, hair mussed and cheeks reddened - likely from cold - and with a sullen expression he stalks across the room and collapses onto the couch next to Cas, barely an inch of space between them. Though the look on his face seems to dare either of them to speak, Sam asks, “Dude, what’s wrong? You look…” he trails off, but they all know that ‘grouchy’ or some variation thereof is the word that would have followed.  
  
Dean glares at them for another second before sighing and slouching down further. “I forgot to go shopping yesterday so there wasn’t anything good for breakfast,” he admits. “The store was out of doughnuts, Baby got a flat tire on the way back, half the groceries fell in a snowbank, and it’s fucking cold out.”  
  
“There were eggs,” Sam points out after a moment, resulting in a scowl from Dean.  
  
Sam shrugs and looks away. Cas frowns, racking his brain for a way to cheer Dean up, when Sam puts a little more pressure into the way he’s rubbing Cas’ neck. With a plan to stop if Dean looks uncomfortable, Cas places a hand on the back of Dean’s neck. The hunter startles before leaning into the touch, and Cas takes that as his cue to keep going. He begins rubbing Dean’s neck, barely holding back a pleased smile when Dean lets out a soft, happy noise, eyes fluttering shut. Cas moves to scratch Dean’s neck in the same soothing, pleasurable manner that Sam does, but as soon as his nails scrape across Dean’s skin the hunter lets out a choked gasp and jerks as far away as possible without standing up.  
  
They stay perfectly still for a moment, Cas and Sam staring bemusedly at Dean, sitting at the other end of the couch and staring straight back at them. Cas is unable to fathom why Dean looks so embarrassed, a blush spreading across his cheeks, when Sam suddenly snorts with laughter.  
  
Dean’s eyes widen and he starts to scramble off the couch before Sam clambers over Cas and pins his brother down; Cas gets to his feet just in time to avoid being kicked or squished by the two men now taking up nearly the entire couch. “Don’t you _dare_ -” Dean starts, sounding far less threatening for the panic infused through his voice. “I’ll kick your ass, I swear to God.”  
  
“Aw, aren’t you just adorable,” Sam teases, settling into a more comfortable position. “I almost forgot how _sensitive_ you are.”  
  
Dean flushes brighter and he gapes wordlessly at Sam, opening and closing his mouth as though he’s trying to come up with a retort but can’t figure out what he wants to say. Before either of them can continue, Cas clears his throat. “I’m… confused.”  
  
Sam grins. “I’m sure Dean would be happy to clear things up for you,” he says, snickering when Dean groans and lets his head fall back onto the couch cushion. “Dean, why don’t you tell Cas what’s going on?”  
  
“N-Nothing!” Dean tries to shove at Sam’s shoulders, but Sam grabs his wrists and forces them down to his sides, pinning them with his knees. “Sammy, you’re dead-AH!” He scrunches up his shoulder when Sam wiggles his fingers across his neck, right above the collarbone. “Quit ihit.”  
  
“Come on,” Sam wheedles. He grasps the hem of Dean’s shirt and slowly pushes it up until it’s bunched up beneath his ribs. It’s become quite obvious to Cas what is going to happen next - he feels rather stupid for not figuring it out sooner - and it seems that Dean knows as well, judging from the way he’s barely holding back nervous laughter. “What’s the matter, can’t handle saying the word?”  
  
“No! I- what w-word?” Dean stutters, biting his lip when Sam skims a hand over his belly. “Stop.”  
  
“You know what word. The _t-word_.” Sam pokes at the pudgier part of Dean’s tummy. “Should I tell him, since you don’t seem to be able to?”  
  
Ignoring Dean’s sound of protest, Sam looks over at Cas and says, “So you might not have known this, but Dean here-” a finger scritching at the rim of Dean’s belly button elicits a strangled yelp “-is very, very ticklish.”  
  
“Somehow I guessed,” Cas deadpans. Dean musters up a glare for him.  
  
“This is all your fault, feathers. If you hadn’t tic- hadn’t ti-t-touched me in the first place…” he breaks off when Sam begins kneading at his side.  
  
Cas shrugs helplessly. “It doesn’t tickle when Sam does it to me.”  
  
Miraculously, Dean’s face grows even more beet-red and he whines, “Stop saying that _word_.”  
  
Sam immediately pounces on the apparent weakness. “What word? _Tickle_? But don’t you want to hear about how much Cas and I are going to tickle you, because you’re so ticklish that we need to take advantage of your ticklishness and tickle you until you can’t handle any more tickling?”  
  
With each variation of the word ‘tickle’ Dean visibly becomes more and more flustered, and he squeaks, “What?”  
  
Sam grins at him. “Right Cas?”  
  
Dean turns a pleading gaze on Cas, who frowns in mock thought despite already having decided to help Sam. The knowledge that Dean Winchester is ticklish is too good not to utilize. He sits down on the opposite side of the couch from Sam, right above Dean’s head. “Are you going to tell me where he’s ticklish?” Cas asks Sam, ignoring Dean’s nervous giggle. “It might be hard for me to help tickle him otherwise.”  
  
“I could tell you,” Sam says thoughtfully. “But it would be a lot more fun for all of us if you figure it out through trial and error instead.”  
  
“‘All of us’?” Dean echoes. “You mean for you.”  
  
“Liar. Cas, if he says he doesn’t like it, don’t listen to him. Dean _loves_ being tickled.”  
  
Dean starts giggling harder as Sam’s fingers flutter over his belly. “N-No I dohon’t! Shuhut up, I d-don’t like ihihit.”  
  
“I didn’t say you like it, I said you love it,” Sam says smugly. “Go ahead Cas, try it.”  
  
Dean tilts his head back to look at him. “Cas, c-come ohohon, don’t do thihi _hihis_ -” He squeaks and scrunches up his neck as soon as Cas wriggles his fingers across the sensitive skin. “Nohohohoho!”  
  
“Your neck is clearly ticklish,” Cas observes calmly, sliding his hand underneath Dean’s head to tickle the back of his neck as well. “I wonder if your underarms are as bad.”  
  
Dean frantically shakes his head. “Thehehehey’re nohohohot!”  
  
“They definitely are,” Sam assures him, grinning down at his brother. “In fact, I remember them being one of your worst spots.” He grabs Dean’s wrists and - with a bit of a struggle - hands them to Cas, who holds them in his lap with one hand while the other pokes at Dean’s armpit.  
  
Dean quickly dissolves into helpless laughter between Sam tickling his stomach and Cas alternating from tickling his underarms and neck. It’s highly enjoyable to watch, and it’s clear that for all of Dean’s begging and protesting, he’s having more fun than he’d like either of them to know. After a few minutes Sam adds, “His ribs are really ticklish too, Cas.”  
  
“Sahahahammy- _ehehehehehe_ , I hahahate you!” Dean exclaims. He shrieks with laughter when Sam pokes a finger inside his belly button and wiggles it around. Cas tugs Dean’s shirt up higher to expose his ribs; after using his Grace to pin Dean’s wrists in place, he lifts both hands up to Dean’s ribs and begins tweaking at the bones and the spaces in between them, causing Dean to kick and squirm as much as his restricted movement allows.  
  
“No you don’t, you haven’t even asked us to stop yet. I think you’re just saying that because it tickles too much,” Sam says, squeezing Dean’s sides. “Does this tickle _really_ bad, Dean?”  
  
“Yes, ahahahasshohohole. Stohohop teeheheheheasing alreheheady!”  
  
“Teasing? You mean reminding you how outrageously ticklish you are and letting you know how endearing the noises you make when you’re tickled are, that kind of teasing?” Cas asks, unable to hold back a smile when Dean snorts with laughter and shakes his head in protest.  
  
“Aw, I don’t know Cas, I think he likes that kind of teasing,” Sam says playfully. “Right Dean? Don’t you just love hearing us say how much fun it is to tickle to and watch you laugh and squirm?”  
  
If possible, Dean’s face becomes more flushed and he laughs harder. “ _Nohohoho_ , that just m-mahahahakes it tihihihickle wohohohorse!”  
  
“So it tickles _more_ when we talk about how ticklish you are and how fun it is to tickle you?” Cas’ grin widens when Dean nods.  
  
“Hey Cas, there’s one more spot where I happen to know Dean is extremely ticklish that we haven’t gotten to yet,” Sam says, casual tone at odds with the manner in which his rapidly wiggling fingers are digging into Dean’s pudgy lower belly. Ignoring Dean’s breathless protests he says, “His feet are very ticklish.”  
  
Cas pauses in tickling Dean’s ribs and briefly contemplates moving to the other end of the couch to tickle Dean’s feet, but it’s far more fun to be able to see Dean’s face, and there are more ticklish areas on his upper body.  
  
With minimal thought, Cas reaches out with his Grace and, bypassing Dean’s socks, prods at the spaces between his toes. Dean immediately screeches, tears of laughter beginning to bead at the corner of his eyes, and with a smile of satisfaction Cas continues scribbling his fingers over Dean’s ribs while simultaneously directing his Grace to sweep across the bottom of Dean’s feet and swirl around underneath his toes.  
  
“Think he’s had enough?” Sam asks once tears of mirth are streaming down Dean’s cheeks and his laughter has turned silent.  
  
“I suppose we don’t want to suffocate him,” Cas agrees, giving Dean’s neck one more poke before drawing back and releasing the hold of his Grace on the hunter’s arms and feet. The moment Sam climbs off of Dean’s legs he curls up in the fetal position in the center of the couch, gasping and clutching his stomach.  
  
“You’re b-bohohoth evil,” he eventually declares, voice still not free of residual giggles. “I’m gonna get you back for that.”  
  
Sam rolls his eyes as Dean gingerly sits up and tugs his shirt back down over his tummy. “And then we’ll get you back, and it’ll be an endless cycle.”  
  
Dean flicks his ear before shooting Cas a smug glance. “You know, since you’re the one who started this, you’re going to be my first target.”  
  
“If you can catch me,” Cas retorts. Privately, he wonders what it must feel like to be on the other end of tickling. He doesn’t think he’d mind finding out. With a shrug he reaches for Dean’s neck, intending to give him a proper massage, but the hunter flinches away. “No tickling this time,” Cas promises. He places his hand on Dean’s neck and after a few moments, Dean sighs and closes his eyes, and small smile quirking at his lips.  
  
Cas chuckles when Sam whispers, “I’m going to tease him so much about this tomorrow,” before turning up the volume on the television.  



End file.
